


For the Love of the Joke

by JessieMay



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Amnesiac Rick Grimes, Consent Issues, Daddy Kink, Daddy Kink Missfire, M/M, Pseudo-Incest, Ricksploitation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2018-12-08 15:32:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11649501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessieMay/pseuds/JessieMay
Summary: Negan can’t remember a time when his mouth got him so quickly on someone’s good side, least of all Rick Grimes'. It’s probably the concussion.—Rick bumps his head and thinks Negan is his dad.—





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Amnesia Rick stories out there.
> 
> It's wrong, then it's right, then it's wrong again (and then hopefully it's right).

 

Negan can’t remember a time when his mouth got him so quickly on someone’s good side, least of all Rick Grimes. He’s afraid to say anything else and ruin it.

Instead, he spends much of the drive back to Sanctuary clearing his throat and adjusting himself while Rick sits beside him with big blue eyes wandering over the passing scenery and no hatchet to speak of. And Negan had looked for it— thoroughly.

His people are probably losing their shit right now. How long had the poor, confused bastard been wandering around like that? And so far out. Probably would’ve bled out if they hadn’t stumbled upon him when they had.

Inside the gate, Negan hopes the looks he’s sending his Second over Rick’s head are communicating something like: “Rick bumped his head. Doesn’t remember anything. Just go with it.”  But from the way Simon is frowning back at him, Negan’s afraid he’s reading something more like: “My stomach hurts bad. May need to go to the infirmary. Also, Rick’s here now.”

Rick doesn’t seem to notice anything. Maybe it’s the lingering fog from whatever got knocked loose. Negan isn’t complaining. He’s never seen those blue eyes pointed at him with something so dangerously close to trust.

Turns out, “you look lost, sweetie. Need Daddy to take you home?” isn’t the first thing you’re supposed to say to the freshly concussed. No one told Negan that. All he knows is, by some freak accident, he’s somehow managed to erase several months of animosity bred from violence and a lot of misunderstanding in a single breath.

“Dad?” 

And oh yeah, he’s Rick’s Dad now.

“ _Daddy._ It’s  _Daddy_ , _”_ Negan corrects again, harsher than he means, but the slight variation warps the whole fucking tone.

“Oh,” Rick says, the same way he’s been saying it all morning after Negan rights him on something: soft and low and a little embarrassed. It’s like he’s trying to absorb everything, trying not to appear as thrown off kilter as he really is. Even this new bright-eyed, fresh, and timid version of Rick still has traces of that old pride.

Negan melts a little.

“Look, I know how it sounds. I used to think it was a little immature too, but hey, you always liked it. And who am I to stop you from doing what makes you happy? I say, you do you, sweetie.” He grins down at Rick who doesn’t look pacified but nods.

 

 

All day, Negan continues to test the parameters:

“Careful sweetie, you keep wandering off like that, gonna have to hold your hand. Just stick close to Daddy, alright?"

“You gotta ask permission if you wanna touch things, son. It’s dangerous. Don’t make Daddy tell you again.”

“Didn’t I say stay close, Rick? One more time and it's no dessert tonight.”

He’s waiting for the moment when Rick snaps, when he finally turns around and hurls a fist into Negan’s teeth.  But this Rick only fumbles and complies, looking embarrassed like _he’s_ the odd one in this otherwise normal situation and is just doing his best to keep in step with Negan’s lead.

Part of Negan just wants to smack some sense into his empty little head so he can finally appreciate the joke. The sooner Rick gets it, the sooner Negan can laugh it off, take him back to his little suburban fantasy and they can both get on with their lives.

But the day is dragging on and Rick still hasn’t snapped out of it.  Even Negan has to admit it’s getting a little fucking gratuitous when he reaches across the table to pat some crumbs out of the graying beard— and Rick _lets_ him.

By the time the sun hits forty-five degrees, it's starting to feel more like work. 

“Uh, Dad?”

“ _Daddy,"_ Negan snaps.

“Uh…who is that?”

It was so much better when Rick just followed him around, quietly awed by everything and trusting that Negan had shit handled. But as the day wears down, he's been getting bolder, asking more questions, forcing Negan to make an effort. Now he has to add more layers to this already convoluted joke and he’s not even sure if the payoff will be worth it anymore.

With a growl, Negan turns to where Rick is looking, mentally preparing himself for the next thing he'll have to pull out of his ass. He's not ready for this.

In the yard, Daryl has his grimy fingers locked through the iron fence and his blue eyes staring out from that filthy complexion. He’s watching them.

Christ.

Negan looks back at Rick, whose eyes are narrowing and lips pursing like something is slowly falling into place.

Jesus Fucking Christ.

The next moment Negan swoops in, throws an arm around the slighter man, and steers them off in the other direction.

“Dude’s a fucking creeper, Rick. You don’t go near him, okay? Got a real fucking staring problem. I told him to ease up with that shit but he keeps at it. It’s why he’s out there. Always creeping people the fuck out. It’s another rule we have here, Rick: No being a creepy fuck.”

“I think he was…lookin’ at me. Do I…do I know him?” Rick tries to look back again.

“No, sweetie.” Negan pushes them on. “You don’t. And thank God. You don’t wanna know him.”

“Oh.”

 

 

So it goes.

Negan's explanations get accepted with no more than a nod and an occasional downcast "oh." The jabs and quips that are meant to ruffle and belittle the Alexandrian leader don’t just go unnoticed but get adopted into this fake world Negan accidentally built. Before Negan knows what’s happened, he’s actually _invested_. The Savior leader is filling in holes and fabricating memories, replacing a whole history of violence and loss with fishing trips and drinking nights.  By the end of the day, Negan and Rick are the closest father-son duo there ever was—according to Negan. They know each other inside and out. They go hunting together in the fall, partner up on supply runs, sing duets on karaoke nights. Hell, they even have a fucking handshake. He tries to teach it to Rick but the man is pitifully uncoordinated and Negan can't abide it. 

And Rick swallows it all, even the more far-fetched things. He either doesn’t notice or isn’t bothered by the fact that Negan isn’t that much older than him, or that they don’t talk with the same accent. Negan takes it as a testament both to how badly the man knocked his head and to the Savior's own charisma.

“We sleep…”

“Together, yeah. Like I said, we’re _really_ close.”

“Oh.” He does the thing.

Negan studies him.

“Yeah. I mean if you don’t want to sleep here, that’s fine. I just think if you keep doing what you normally do, it’ll help it all come back faster. That’s what the doc said anyway. I mean he’s got a fucking degree.” 

The doc  _had_  said that but only while sending cautious glances to Negan, who was standing directly behind Rick throughout the examination.

“No, it’s… it’s alright,” Rick says. “It’s just…”

“I know it’s a lot to handle all at once.”

“I mean… “ Rick looks like he doesn’t want to offend him. “I know you say this is all normal but, I just… I feel like I don’t know you. I’m sorry.”  He looks down and something sinks in Negan’s chest.

“I know. This is a lot to take in. If you want me to go, I will. But so close to your accident, I really think you should have someone here with you. Doc said it could be dangerous for you to be alone. And you need to know that there’s not a person in this whole compound you’re safer with than me.”

“Okay,” Rick says after a while, and Negan thinks he catches the faintest “Daddy.”

 

 

And that’s how Negan gets Rick into his bed.

 

 

“What are you doing?”

“Oh, we always cuddle like this. You say it makes you feel safe.”

“Oh.”

Negan is curled up around the slighter man, spooning him.

“Wh-what are you doing now?”

“You always like this,” Negan says, running his fingers lightly up and down Rick’s side.

“Oh.”

It's more gratifying than it should be, seeing Rick so trusting, taking Negan's word for something, and for once in his goddamn life not making everything Negan tries to do for him feel like pulling teeth from a pissed-off lion.

“Uh—”

“ _Daddy_ ,” Negan supplies, placing chaste kisses along Rick’s shoulder and up his neck, while his fingers continue along their languid path.

“Daddy...”

Negan hums.

“Daddy, is this…”

The Savior brushes brown curls back to place a kiss against the shell of Rick’s ear.

“Is this what we... what we normally do?”

“Yeah, sweetie, you love this.” Negan’s lips drag over Rick’s skin as he speaks. Through the rapidly growing fog of his mind, he grasps for any image that isn’t too explicit. “You used to come back from supply runs, all sweaty and scuffed up, and beg me to lay you down and… touch you like this. Used to say it was the only thing that could relax you.”

Beneath Negan’s lips, Rick’s skin is hot. 

“Usually, you have less clothes on,” Negan comments drowsily, letting his fingers catch on the hem of the white t-shirt and drag it up to reveal smooth, warm hipbone beneath. “You _really_ like it when I touch you right here...”  Rick’s belly trembles as Negan’s fingers slide up and down the line from his navel to his waistband. “Used to ask me to go for _hours,_ just running my fingers on you, light like this. Sometimes other things…” Negan purrs then laves his tongue over the prominent pulse on Rick’s neck. 

“D-Daddy,” Rick whispers.

Negan growls.

“Daddy.”

With a hard tug, the button of Rick’s pants snaps loose.

“ _Daddy!_ ”

Rick is pulling away. “I’m—I’m sorry, I don’t know what…” 

Negan blinks, taking in the man who has flipped around to face him. Rick is breathing hard and avoiding his eyes as he babbles incoherently.

“Oh, shit,” Negan says. Slowly the fog rolls away. “Oh shit, is this...is this getting you a little… Oh, I’m sorry, sweetie. Fuck. _Shit._ I should‘ve known this would happen.”

“What…what would happen?” Furtively Rick meets his eyes.

“Oh shit, I kind of hoped that maybe since you forgot everything else, you might've lost this too, but I guess not. Shit.”

“Lost what?” Rick’s bright blue eyes go large and searching.

“Oh, sweetie,” Negan rolls onto his back and drags a despondent hand down his face. “You used to… Oh, maybe I shouldn’t…”

“What? What is it, Daddy?”

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Negan says into his hand, and is just able to cut it off before it turns into a moan. “It’s just. I thought we were past this.”

“Past what? Please.” Rick props himself up on an elbow to stare earnestly down at Negan. “Just tell me.”

“Alright,” Negan sighs and drops his arms. “Well, I guess the cat’s outta the bag. We didn’t really have the most ‘normal’ relationship, you and me. I lied about that. I mean, I know it all seems sweet and innocent on the surface, but underneath, it's…dark, Rick. Real dark. You sure you want to hear this?”

Rick swallows visibly and his brow furrows. After a moment, he gives a determined little nod and it’s all Negan can do not to moan again.

“Alright. Well. You and me, we were always real close, you know. You were always a _Daddy’s boy_. But after the world went to shit, Rick, you changed, you started…Ah, jeez, how do I put this.” He licks his lips. “You wanted something... a little  _more_ than a normal father-son relationship, if you know what I'm saying.”

Rick stares at him and Negan worries for a moment that he really doesn't know what he's saying.

“Wait.”

There it is.

“You mean I wanted…“

“See, I knew I shouldna said anything. Now you’ve got it in your head that we had some kind of _freaky thing_ going on.”

“But…”

“I know, I know, Rick. I had that same look on my face when you told me. I said, ‘I don’t know about that, son. You and me. Going at it like that. All hot and heavy. Your thick thighs all wrapped around me. Hands digging in my hair. I just don’t know if it’s such a good idea.’ That's what I said.”

Rick swallows, looking utterly crestfallen by the man he’s turned out to be, unsure if he wants to uncover more. It seems to take no small amount of effort to find his voice again. “And… what did I say?”

“You said, ‘love is love, Daddy,’ and honestly, I had a hard time arguing, Rick. What with the way you were looking at me, all sure and _desperate_ as you were…”

“De-desperate?”

“Yeah, Rick, you were _shaking._ Talking about how no one ever touched you the way I could, no one ever kissed you the way I could, how it made something shoot down deep in your belly and do all kinds of crazy things to you.” And where’s his goddamn Oscar? “ _God_ , you said that just standing close to me would get you all hot and twitchy, make you feel like you were _burning_. Shit, I shouldn’t talk like this. What am I thinking? I’m sorry, Rick. This must all come as such a shock to you.”

As if pulled from a daze, Rick blinks suddenly and his eyes take focus again.  “N-no, it’s…it’s alright.”

“No, Rick. I can see that it’s a problem. If you want, I can go sleep in another room. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s alright,” Rick says low and Negan measures how far up his face the flush has crept.

“Well, alright then, if you say it’s okay.”

Rick turns away, scooting to the far side of the bed. “What are you doing?” He asks after a while; Negan had been shuffling around under the sheets behind him.

“Oh, I always sleep naked. Not gonna be a problem, is it?”

Slowly Rick shakes his head but doesn’t turn.

After tossing all of his clothes out onto the floor, Negan sighs. “Ah, that feels better. Oh! Almost forgot. You can’t sleep without your goodnight kiss.”

Leaning over Rick, he gently guides the gray, stubbled chin to the position. The moment their lips meet, Negan’s tongue plunges deep, finding every corner of the other man's mouth and lapping at his tongue. Rick makes only a soft, disoriented sound, and when Negan pulls away at last, the blue eyes are wide and glassy.

“Goodnight, Rick.”

 

 

The next day, Rick doesn’t have as many questions and stumbles around Negan like a clumsy lamb. Negan considers pinning him down and making him look him in the eye for a full five seconds, just ‘cause he knows it’ll probably kill him. But he leaves him be and goes about his routine

It’s after noon when Negan almost jumps from surprise at the low, wavering voice that comes from across the table.  He’d been reading over an itemized account of a recent pickup and almost forgotten Rick was there, he's been so quiet.

When Negan looks up, he’s struck by the blue eyes firmly fixed on him. 

“Do I like men?” Rick asks again, sounding serious and curious. He really wants to know.  His eyes are locked on Negan as he waits.

Negan is momentarily fazed by the question and only blinks. 

“No, Rick,” he says finally and matches Rick’s steady gaze. “You don’t like men. You just like me."

After a pause, in which Rick seems to process this, he nods and looks away again. 

 

 

“You okay, Rick?” Negan asks that night as he moves up behind him.

Rick goes rigid as a board as he’d done all day when Negan got close to him. When Negan’s arms wrap around to help unbutton his shirt, the slighter man spins away. 

“I know that..." Rick begins and clears his throat. "That we should do everything we normally do, but I don’t…I don’t think I can.” He looks down. "I'm sorry."

Negan’s heart drops. “Oh, shit,” he says. “Is this about yesterday? Don’t worry about that. I’m sure it won’t happen again. You just got a little excited is all. No need to be embarrassed. Not like you can’t control yourself, Rick. I mean you’re fine now, right?" He closes the distance between them. "I can stand here, right? It's not too close? Let me just help you out of that. Too hot to be sleeping in your clothes, Rick. You know that. You get all sweaty at night. Always have. There, isn’t that better? Sure you want to keep those pants on? Okay, that’s fine. Just don’t want you to get too hot is all. Daddy worries, you know. Just wants you to be comfortable. Shit, you look real good, Rick. Got a real nice… a real nice… _Fuck_.”

Then Rick is lunging forward and Negan is lunging forward and together they’re stumbling onto the bed. 

“Daddy—” Rick gets out between impassioned kisses. _"Daddy."_

“Yeah, baby?”

“Daddy, we—we shouldn’t…”

“I know, it’s _so_ naughty, sweetie. It’s so fucking naughty.”

“No, Daddy, wait. You said—”

Negan scoops Rick up and maneuvers them higher on the mattress.

“Fuck what I said. I’m gonna give you what you want. You been so good, baby. _So good for Daddy._ ” He presses between Rick’s thighs.

“Wait, wait—” Rick urges as Negan devours his neck. 

He can’t wait. He feels like he's been rock hard since they found Rick there in the woods, since Negan asked that stupid fucking question and Rick turned those dazed, wondering eyes on him and stuttered out the single word, soft and unsure— _"D-Daddy?"—_ and wrecked Negan completely.

“Wait!”

Negan groans. “ _What?_ ”

“Is… is that…” 

“What?”

Rick reaches down tentatively between them. “Is that…”

“Daddy’s equipment? Yeah, sweetie. Careful how you handle it.” Negan dives back in.

“It’s…”

“I know.”

“But it’s… it’s big…”

“I know I know.”

“Daddy, it’s… it’s too big.”

“ _I know, s_ weetie. Now Daddy needs you to shut the fuck up a minute or he’s gonna nut himself.”

As Negan takes a minute to concentrate, Rick bites his lip and waits.

“ _Christ,_ ” Negan hisses after he’s cooled down a little. “Jesus, Rick, what the hell was that?”

“I don’t… I didn’t mean…”

“It’s alright. I’m not upset. You just gotta be careful how you talk, okay? Can’t go saying things like that.” 

“Daddy, have we… have we done this?”

“No, sweetie, it’s your first time.” And oh, fuck. The moment Negan says it he almost needs another minute.

“Oh,” Rick does the fucking thing.

“It’s okay. Not gonna hurt you, baby. Not gonna hurt you. You trust me?”

Slowly Rick nods and Negan bites his own lip.

“I just…” Rick says. “I just don’t know if I can. it’s... it's really big, Daddy.”

_Oh, Jesus._

“ _I said none of that, Rick!_ Not another word. You hear me? Not a fucking word.” Negan’s hanging on by a thread. Rick trusts him and he’s never done this before and Negan’s cock is _too big, Daddy—_ Negan groans into Rick’s shoulder and it takes everything he has not to come right there.

“You just…” He swallows, schools his voice into something almost normal. “You just tell me when it stops feeling good okay, and we’ll stop. Anytime you want, we’ll stop. Can you do that? Can you do that for me, baby?” He manages to pull away enough to look into Rick’s eyes.

Reluctantly, but with some determination, Rick nods. 

“Oh, I knew you could do it, Rick. You’re so good. You’re so good for me. Now, Daddy’s gonna fuck his good boy. Gonna fuck that amnesia right out of you, you want that?”

Rick flushes even harder, gives another nod.

Negan gets to work on his own pants.

And wouldn’t that be something? The old Rick waking up to find himself stuffed full of thick, hard, _big_ Negan, his kiss-swollen lips hanging wide open around a moan he can’t stop. He’d probably look up at Negan with bitter, hateful recognition right as he shot all over his own chest, twitching and milking Negan’s jizz right up into himself.

“ _Oh, Fuuuuuuuck_.”

 

 

It’s all white and hazy for a while, and afterward, he’s tired and sticky and disgusted.

“D-Daddy?” 

He's been lying silently and miserably on top of a still half-clothed Rick for a few minutes now.

“Don’t call me that.” 

“What…what’s wrong?”

“It’s all fucking wrong, Rick. But you don’t get it, do you? Wasn’t supposed to get this goddamn far.”

“I don’t…”

“ _Understand_. I know you don’t understand, Rick.” Negan begins the slow, shameful process of disentangling himself, drenched inside and out in post-orgasmic guilt. “Well, you better fucking start, ‘cause I can’t do this shit anymore. It’s fucking exhausting.”

“Daddy, I’m—“

“I said already, don’t fucking call me that. I’m not your Daddy, Rick. You see what the fuck you’ve done, with all your _‘Daddy’_ shit?”

“I’m…I’m sorry.”

“No! You don’t fucking apologize and you don’t fucking call me Daddy. All you do is you scowl— Nothing else. You just sit there, all proud and righteous, and look at me like you wanna skin me alive— and maybe fucking try it— but that's all you do, Rick."

“I don’t understand,” Rick says again.

Negan sighs and finally gets up from the bed,  “I know. I know, sweetie.” The softness creeps back into his tone. It isn't fair to blame Rick when he's like this.

“Where are you going?” Rick sits up on his knees, watching as Negan goes for his boots.

“Out.”

“Oh.”

Negan sucks his teeth as he watches the curls tumble over the downcast face. “You’re coming with me.”

The blue eyes rise and light up.

“Fuck, you can be so sweet, can’t you, baby?” Despite himself, Negan reaches out and brushes a perfect brown coil from Rick's face. “When you just trust me.”

“Did I… did I do somethin' wrong?”

Negan can’t help but laugh. “No, Rick. Not a damn thing. You’re fucking perfect.” 

“Then why don’t you want…”

“I want to, baby. I want to. Trust me. It’s just…Daddy’s going through some things right now.”

“What _things_?” His brow furrows in real concern like he wants to help work it out. Negan thinks he’ll really try.

“Hard to explain, precious,” He says honestly and sighs. “But I’m pretty sure a young man named Carl is going to come over here and kill me if I don’t get it sorted out quick.”

“C-Carl _?”_ Rick says. There’s a brief moment of wonder, then his lips curl around the name again. _"_ _Carl.”_

Rick blinks. He blinks again. Then the fluttering lashes lift away to reveal pale blue recognition. 

Of course.

Negan catches a flash of something murderous before he brings the butt of his gun down hard at roughly the same spot as the existing injury, and Rick is out cold.

 

 

“Can you do something for me, sweetie?” Negan whispers, though his men are all hidden in the trees some distance away. 

Rick makes a dreamy sound. Cocooned in the white silk lining, he seems to glow.

“When you lay down at night, after a long run, will you think of me?”

Rick stirs slightly as Negan brushes a curl from his face.

“Will you think of my hands on you, winding you down? Will you do that for me?”

“Nn…” 

Negan’s eyes trace the soft pink lips.  “Think of my lips. When you’re all alone…”

“N-Negan…”

“Remember me, Rick. Remember Daddy.”

Then he closes the lid and walks away, swiping one lone walker in the face with Lucille in passing.

Simon sends off a few shots and soon the large gate to the big safe zone slides open, and people come out to investigate the package. The portly man with a mullet grabs the note that’s taped to the lid. 

_You lost this. —Negan._

It’s nothing elaborate or clever. He’d scribbled it quickly. Still, that paired with the casket and the fact that Rick's been missing for days is sure to have them properly shitting themselves on the spot.

Let it be known that although Negan may be one depraved bastard, he can still set up a damn funny joke.

 

 


	2. Never Gets Old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like Chapter One but _more._ Enjoy.

PROLOGUE

First things first, he’s gonna have to find a place for Daryl Dixon. It’s tough ‘cause now that everyone heard about what he did to Fat Joe, finding a station for him is like trying to sell a pit bull who’s still licking the blood from his chops. The asshole hasn’t even come close to working that shit off in the yard but Negan can’t just leave him hanging around out there in the open like that. Not now.

“Here?” Mort says again, staring at Negan like he’s got two heads. “You want to put Daryl Dixon…here?”

“Yeah,Yeah,” Negan says distractedly, glancing over his shoulder again to make sure the delirious man hadn’t wandered off. “Hey! Watch his head!” He shouts to Dwight, whose supposed to be watching him. The blonde quickly grabs the visiter and guides him away from a low beam he’d almost walked straight into.

“Jesus,” Negan groans, then turns back to the inventory clerk. “Look, I don’t give a shit what you do with him. Just keep him the fuck out of sight, alright?”

“Alright.”

“Great. Also, you got any orange tape back there?” Second thing on the list: they’re gonna have to mark off some of the low-hanging machinery around here. God knows Rick’s got a bad habit of knocking his head into things.

 

  
It’s gotta be some kind of karma. The last time Negan saw Rick Grimes, the Alexandrian nearly leapt over a table to get his hands on him. Negan doesn’t remember exactly how that joke went but knows when it went sour. Something about redheads having more “explosive” blood. It was an in-joke thing. Not in the best taste, he’ll admit, but Rick has always been a stick in the mud anyway.

Only Arat had seen Rick lunge. The two leaders were rolling around for a good minute before the woman finally managed to pry the Alexandrian off her boss. Negan, who'd been in a good mood that day, let it slide, which is not something Negan does. Now he thinks he’s been bumped to the top of some cosmic “Good Boys” list for his mercy. He doesn’t usually keep with that superstitious crap, but Negan knows more than anyone that Karma is a damn peach.

This time, they’d found Rick wandering around near a canal filled with Walkers. If they hadn’t driven by right then and distracted the herd, Rick would’ve been pulled pork.

There was such bright recognition in those blue eyes, such genuine relief, that considering the _spirit_ of their last encounter, Negan knew immediately that something was off.

“D-Dad?” The younger man had stuttered out when their eyes met.  
  
Negan’s mouth had nothing to do with it this time.

So, they took him back to the compound, met with the doctor, and determined that Rick was once more thoroughly concussed. Negan had always suspected Rick’s people were a little dense but now he thinks they’re downright negligent.

“So, uh,” Negan says while the Doctor writes up his diagnosis. “You don’t, uh… remember how you got out there, huh?”

“No. Last thing I remember was… you showin’ me around the armory…”

“Uh’huh.” Negan nods.

“Why?” Rick goes a shade paler. “How long have I been gone?”

“Not long.” Negan shrugs. “Just a couple days is all.”

Considering it had been almost two months since that first time, Negan thinks Rick bumped his head pretty good.

“And you uh, still don’t remember anything from before the first time?”

Rick frowns and shakes his head.

“Well, damn. That’s alright, Rick. We’ll just, uh, just have to make do I guess.”

And so Rick had come back, all unsure and soft-spoken and so goddamn trusting it gives Negan a toothache. His experiences from that first time are fully intact from the sounds of it, except for that last night leading up to when Negan knocked him out and hauled him back to Alexandria. Negan doesn’t mind that part getting lost though. Truth be told, Negan himself tries not to think about it. Really, it’s all mostly a blur to him anyway. One thing is certain though: he was a dumbass for letting this slip away when he did. There was so much more to get out of the joke.

 

 PART I

 

“Rick, no running ahead like that. Stay where Daddy can see you.”

"Whoa, whoa! didn't I say the soup was hot? You gotta blow on it first, Rick. Here, let me."

“Oh, shit! Forgot you were showering in here, Rick. My bad. It’s alright. Nothing Daddy hasn’t seen.”

In all, it’s as solid a joke as ever. Negan has to commend himself. Still, he won’t deny that he’s had a few slips. Last time, he’d only had to keep up the story for two days. Rick’s been there over a week now and Negan’s starting to feel the strain.

“Rick, baby, I know it’s hot, but if you keep going at that ice like that, Daddy’s gonna give you something else to suck on.”

Beside him, Rick suddenly sounds like he’s choking, and knocks over his water.

Negan stares for a moment, blinks. “Kidding. Sweetie. I’m kidding! You know Daddy’s got a mouth on him. Always talking nonsense, you know that. It’s how Daddy plays, baby. Hey, Simon! Your ass is looking real tasty in them slacks today. Just wanna eat it up. See, Daddy’s always messing around. The fuck you looking at, Simon? Alright, Rick, we done here? Baby, you spilled your water. Gotta be more careful. Alright, let’s put these trays up and go check on Daddy’s guns.”

   

Despite the work that comes with keeping up a joke this elaborate, Negan has to admit, there’s something nice about having Rick around again. Seeing his bright, intense eyes darting nervously around the room, the wary set of his shoulders, the curls that never seem to stay tucked behind his ears, the nervous sweating, the slight outward bow of his legs that gets more pronounced as he half-jogs to keep up with Negan’s long strides. The way he squints through ever explanation Negan feeds him, working hard to grasp every word. The way he looks up with those glistening eyes, hungry for understanding, so willing to trust…

Yeah, maybe some part of Negan missed this.

 

“One more time, those fuckers try to pull that shit, I swear to God—”

“Uh, Dad.”

“We’ll just have to make a fucking example, that’s all. Just have to string one of’em up. Round up the whole fucking settlement to watch—“

“Dad—”

"What did I say, Rick?"

"Uh, Daddy." Rick corrects himself, going warm as he glances around the full room.

Negan shifts a little where he sits. "No, " he says. "What did I say about you coming in here when I got meetings? Go wait outside."

“I just—“

"Go wait outside, Rick.”

Reluctantly Rick turns to go.

“Hey, where you going?” Negan calls after him.

Rick stops. “You said…“

Negan angles a look at him. “Forgetting something?”

Rick pales a shade. His fingers twitch at his sides and his eyes dart over the table of Saviors, who’ve all gone silent.

Negan waits.

Finally, Rick makes his way back to the head of the table, where Negan sits with his head angled expectantly.

Rick hovers a moment before finally leaning down and planting a fast kiss on the offered cheek.

“Thank you, sweetie,” Negan purrs, and watches Rick’s brusque exit. When the door closes behind him, he takes a deep breath. “Kids," he sighs, to the laughter of the room.

Killin' it.

“Alright, where were we?”

 

 

Outside, Rick is waiting for him.

“We need to talk,” he says, as the group disperses around them.

A few send back humoring looks, which Negan tries not to acknowledge too blatantly.

“Oh? _We need to talk,_ huh?” he can’t help grinning at how serious the other man sounds. He takes a step forward and Rick moves back stiffly.

“I want to make some changes,” Rick says, gruff and rigid. He seems to have trouble meeting Negan’s eyes.

“Changes? Well, what do you need, sweetie? How can I make you more comfortable here? Daddy’s all ears.”

As if from something Negan had said, Rick’s lip tightens. He gathers himself before speaking again. “We gotta change the way…the way you talk to me.”

Negan only blinks for a moment then huffs a sound between a laugh and a snort. “Baby, is this about in there? We talked about this. You know I gotta talk big like that. Can’t let the guys think I’m giving you special treatment just cause you’re my boy. Daddy didn’t mean nothing by it, sweetie.”

“No, see, that’s—that’s what I mean. All _the…Daddy_ and _Sweetie_ and things. I’m a—” his eyes shift around as if they may be overheard. “I’m a _grown man_ ,” he hisses.

Negan eyes the tight jaw and balled fists, the blue eyes that blaze in familiar indignation.

“Jeez, Rick. I know that. What, you think I don’t know you’re a grown man? Christ, don’t gotta tell me that. I know you’re not a kid. Now, if that’s all, let’s go get some ice-cream. Just had some new toppings come in. You like sprinkles?”

“No.”

“ _No?_ ” Negan turns to see that Rick isn’t following him. “What, you don’t want ice-cream? Sweetie, we been eating cake all week.” He sighs. “Alright. Fine. Cake then. But don’t get all pissy when they run out of sprinkles and you fucking missed your chance.”

“No,” Rick says again, unmoving. “No cake. No ice-cream. No damn _—sprinkles._ I’m not…I’m not goin’ with you.”

Negan blinks, trying to process what he’s hearing.

“Alright, Rick. I been real fucking patient with you, putting up with all your up-and-down bullshit all week, going easy on you 'cause I know you’re still recovering. But I've had just about all I can stand, Rick. What the hell has gotten into you lately, huh? You been acting like a fucking toddler, fighting me at every turn. Talking back. Disrespecting Simon. Every time I look at you, you’re in some goddamn corner scowling. You keep wandering off, you don’t wanna shower together, you don’t wanna play Santa—you fucking _love_ playing Santa, Rick. Every December, you couldn’t wait to crawl up on my lap. Used to fucking eat that festive shit up. Used to be your favorite goddamn holiday tradition. And don’t blame this shit on the concussion either. I’m getting real tired of you blaming everything on the damn concussion. Comes a time you gotta take responsibility for being just plain fucking rude.”

When he’s finished, Negan’s face is hot and he’s breathing hard. He’d let himself fly off the handle a little bit there. He couldn’t help it though. Rick had been a real fucking downer lately.

“And now,” He winds up again.“You fucking barge in on my meeting! When I tell you every damn time I can’t have that shit. What the fuck, Rick? What’s gotten into you, huh? Can you answer me that? Used to be so fucking sweet, followed me around every damn place, did everything I said. Never had to ask twice. Swear to God, it’s like I have a damn teenager.”

Arat comes up and hands Negan something. Negan reads it, nods to the woman. When he turns back to Rick, the man is shaking his head, his jaw clenched tight like he’s just barely managing to contain himself. It’s an all too familiar image.

“Alright, we’ll talk more later,” Negan says. “Got too much shit to do right now. Be ready to go in an hour.”

Negan turns to leave but Rick says something that makes him stop. “What?” Negan turns.

“I said I’m not goin’ with you. Tried to tell you at the meetin’.” He stares at his boots. “I’m not goin’ with your group today.”

“What? Says who?”

“Me.”

 _“You?_ Well, shit, Rick.” Negan barks a laugh. “Change your fucking mind. We gotta head out in an hour.”

“No. I mean…” Rick takes a breath and stares steadily at him. “I don’t _want_ to go with you.”

Something rises in Negan’s gut and he bites it down. “We’ll talk about this later,” he manages. “I _will_ see you at the trucks in an hour.”

He turns and strides off then. If Rick says anything else Negan doesn’t stop to hear it.

The hour goes and Rick isn’t at the trucks. Negan waits a little but knows he’s holding up the schedule. They go on ahead without Rick.

 

  
Later, Negan finds the Alexandrian in their bedroom. It’s _Negan’s_ bedroom. Rick doesn’t know that. The idea that the Alexandrian feels safe going there when he's upset makes something go warm in Negan's chest.

Rick doesn’t look as strung out as he did earlier. He’s had time to think, Negan can see. Time to calm down. Negan has too.

Negan closes the door gingerly. “Baby, I’m sorry about earlier,” he says, approaching the other man. “I shouldn’t have yelled like that. You know Daddy hates being firm with you. Hates it more than anything. It’s just, I can't have you barging in on my meetings any time you want. I been telling you that.”

“I know,” Rick says low, his eyes on the ground.

“It’s alright, Daddy’s not mad anymore,” Negan says gently, moving in close and placing his hands on Rick’s shoulders. “I just fucking hate raising my voice at you is all. I just get a little emotional when you don't do as I say. Makes it seem like you don’t respect Daddy’s rules. You know Daddy can’t have that.”

“I know.”

“That’s good.” Negan rubs his arms. “Well, you don’t have to worry about the group. We went on ahead. Hunt went fine. Brought back some good stuff. Now, what do you say we head on down and get some food, huh? Maybe they still got some of them sprinkles left,” He nudges Rick playfully and moves for the door.

“No.”

Negan stops.

Slowly Rick looks up at him. Although much of the fire from earlier has subsided, that same resolve remains. “I meant it earlier. What I said. Things gotta change.”

Negan takes this in. “Baby, I already said I was sorry about—”

“It’s not that.”

“What is it then?”

Rick’s fingers twitch in his fists and he stares at Negan's boots. “I think we’re too close.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“We’re spendin’ a lot of time together," Rick says. "I mean with all the runs, every meal, the room…we’re around each other almost all the time. Maybe we oughta, I donno, take some time apart.”

“Take some time a—” Negan can’t even say it. “Baby, you’re being dramatic. Of course we’re close. You’re my boy. I’m your Daddy. There’s nothing wrong with that. Where the hell is all this coming from?”

"Nowhere," Rick says, but there something in the way he avoids Negan's eyes. 

Something sinks in Negan's gut.

“I just…I just don’t think it’s _…right,_ us spending so much time together. Not after...after all that stuff you said, I mean, about..." his head falls forward and few curly strands slip from behind his ears. "about the way we _were.”_

Ah.

Negan bites back a curse.

There it is.

He thought he'd been so clever that night, so quick on his feet. Rick might have forgotten the chaotic tail-end of his last visit, but he still remembers _the talk_.

The talk, which Rick, in his addled little brain, remember as only a few nights ago, had, in fact taken place months back. It was that first night after Rick had bumped his head and landed himself in the most elaborate joke ever hatched. Under threat of losing a day's worth of ass-busting leeway, Negan had concocted a whole backstory about Rick’s not-so-innocent infatuation with his father. It was sordid and devious and Negan was damned if he didn't sell the shit out of it. His quick thinking had not only saved the joke, but _elevated_ it. He'd commended himself then for the creativity but now he wishes he'd reined it in a little bit.

“I mean, some of the thingsyou were _sayin',"_ Rick says in a hushed voice, and Negan catches a blossom of color through the veil of curls. "Just doesn’t feel…natural, is all.” 

“Natural?” Negan huffs. “Sweetie, we got dead people walking around in the front yard. What the hell is natural? You’re using the old ways as a measuring stick when none of that shit applies anymore. Listen. Baby. _This,”_ he indicates to the both of them. “This is as natural as anything.”

Rick seems to consider this and Negan latches onto the momentum. “Sweetie, listen to me. Don’t you have everything you want here? Don’t I give you everything you ask for? Just try to hang on for a little while longer, okay? I promise it’ll all feel normal again soon. Can you do that for me, Rick?”

After a while, Rick nods. “I’ll try.”

“Can I get a ‘Daddy’ at least?”

“I’ll try, Daddy.”

Negan’s belly does a summersault. “Thank you, baby.” He kisses Rick’s head. “Now, let's go get some food. Daddy’s fucking starving.”

 

  
Negan thinks it’s settled after that, and for a couple more days it seems that way. Then some guys down in Warehouse B get a little rowdy. There’s a tussle and, wouldn’t you know it, Rick gets involved, ends up getting a little roughed up. Someone throws some taunts afterward, something to the tune of, _“Whats’a matter Sweetie? Gonna go tell Daddy on me?”_

It’s Negan’s own joke so he can’t get too mad about it. Still, it’s more of a one-man show kinda thing. He doesn’t need the help. The two Warehouse B guys get the gist real quick, and Negan’s ready to put the whole thing behind them, but by the time they’re back in the bedroom that night, it’s clear that Rick isn’t past it.

“I’m sayin’ I’m a grown man. I’ll call you Negan like everyone else.”

“Whao whoa whoa. _Whoa,_ Rick. Let’s not get crazy. Come one— _Negan?_ What am I, a fucking distant relation now? No way. You’re my boy, I’m your Daddy. Not gonna call me Negan like we don’t fucking know each other.” He reaches out and Rick pulls away.

“No. It’s humiliating. The way you talk to me out there. I can’t have that. I can’t. I’m not _your…boy._ I’m grown. We oughta act like it.”

“But sweetie, you always call me—“

“I know, I know. And the doctor may be right that I should keep doin' what I always did. But I just… I can’t anymore. I just can’t.”

“What, is this about today? Those guys? Sweetie, they don’t care about that. Everyone knows what you’re like. Nobody cares. And anyway, those guys aren’t gonna be bothering you anymore.”

“I told you I don’t need you protectin’ me like that. Makin’ a big show all the time.”

“You never minded before,” Negan mutters.

Rick shakes his head as if to clear it. When he speaks again, it’s slow and with some difficulty. “I don’t know what kind of man I was before, but I’m not… that way anymore. I just…I don’t know if my memories will ever come back, and it feels like I’m just pretending every day to be someone else. It feels…wrong.”

“Sweetie, I gotta say, I’m a little hurt. This is all a little unexpected.”

Rick only stares at his hands.

“Well, alright,” Negan concedes, patting his thighs. “If it’s that important to you, you can call me what you want. I just think you’re being a little dramatic is all. Next you’ll be saying we shouldn’t sleep in the same bed anymore.” He huffs.

Rick looks up at him.

“Rick…”

“I been lookin’ around the grounds,” he says low. “There’s plenty of open rooms in the East wing. I was thinkin’ that…”

“Rick. Baby. If this is about last night, I told you it was a fucking accident. I’ll start wearing underwear if it’s that big a deal.”

“I just don’t think that it’s…that it’s right. With everything…”

There it is again. Negan bites down another curse.

With a composing breath, Negan shuts his eyes and reaches inward to pull from some deep inner reserve.

“Alright, Rick.” He says, squaring himself. “I’m about to tell you something. We never really like to talk about it, but it’s the truth and if your memories never come back, you need to know this. I really hoped it wouldn’t come to this but I see this is getting to you.”

He holds the blue gaze through the dense silence that follows and knows Rick isn’t breathing.

“Rick,“ he says at last. “You’re not my son.”

Rick stares at him.

“Yeah. That’s right.”

“What, so…”

“Yeah. We aren’t related. I just found you when you were a sprout and raised you up as my own. I hoped your memories would come back by now and I wouldn’t have to say it. It always used to upset you when it came up before. Guess you always liked to think of me as your real pops. But seeing as we don’t know when you’ll snap out of this, it’s only right you should know.” He waits.

Rick’s eyes go narrow as he seems to measure Negan. “No,” he says finally, “No. I can tell you’re lyin’.”

“I’m not, Rick. I mean it. You’re not my son.”

Rick measures him up again. “No, I know what you’re doin’. You’re just tryin' to make me feel better by sayin’ that. It’s not true.”

Negan stares at the sternly downcast face and hopelessly fretting fingers. He bites his lip. “Goddammit,” he says at last. “Of course you’re my son, Rick. Sure as Simon’s a damn Catholic. I could never fucking lie to you. You always see right through me. That’s why you’re my boy. Never been two men more alike. Got the same damn mind. I’m sorry I tried to lie to you, Rick. Can you blame me though? You been so tense lately, I just wanted to see you relax a little. Is that wrong? Come on, I’m doing everything I can here to make you feel comfortable. Can you just gimme something? Come on, sweetie, show me that smile.”

Rick turns away, lips tight.

“I think it’s best if we spend some time apart,” he says, and rises to his feet.

“Oh, come on, Rick. You don’t need to go.” He follows him to the door. “Really, you’ve been doing so much better lately. We haven’t had any incidents in a while. Come on, is this really necessary? Rick?” Rick is half-way down the hall. “Rick, sweetie. Don’t you think this is a little extreme?”

Without another word, the other man vanishes around the corner, leaving Negan alone in the long, vacant hallway.

 

 

PART II 

 

  
Things are going well, Negan would say.

Rick has little odd jobs around the compound. Nothing big. Just little things to keep him busy. Negan sees him occasionally throughout the day as he’s making his rounds. When their eyes meet, Rick always looks away, acting like he didn’t see him.

Negan lets him be for the most part. What else can he do? Rick doesn’t want him interfering, treating him like a child. So Negan stays back, gives him his space.

In truth, he has Dwight tailing him, making sure he’s not getting into shit. Negan isn’t stupid. He can’t just let Rick fucking Grimes roam around.

“Transfers done,” Simon says, coming up beside him on the balcony above the market.

“Yeah?”

“Yep. All personnel with the names Carl, Carla, Carlie or anything containing the sequence of letters C-A-R-L have been transferred to outposts. Anything else?”

“No, that’s good.” Negan nods absently, keeping his eyes on the bustling market below.

Among the throng of people, Rick is collecting items from a list Arat had given him. Negan doesn’t know what it’s for but told her to give him something to do. Rick wants to be useful.

“Gave him some jobs,” Negan explains when he notices Simon is following his gaze. “Nothing big.”

Simon doesn't respond.

“Yeah,” Negan huffs, nodding at the other Savior. “Gonna be fucking hysterical when he finally snaps out of it, realizes he’s been hanging around here for weeks, working for me, doing pointless errands and shit.”

Simon doesn't respond

“Just gets funnier the longer he’s here, right? Who knew this joke had such legs, huh?”

Simon doesn’t respond to that.

“Yep, any day now, we’re gonna be laughing our asses off. Wait and see. Gonna be fucking hilarious,” When he looks, Simon is already walking away. Negan turns back to the market below and his eyes once more find the man making his way through the crowd. “Gonna be fucking hilarious,” he mumbles to himself.

 

  
Someone brought back a crate of peppers from a settlement. They’re hot as shit.

“Those are hot as shit,” one of the Saviors warns as Negan plucks one from the box.

Negan eyes the man, snorts, pops the pepper into his mouth, chews, swallows, then flicks the stem. When he raises up his arms to the gathered crowd, they all nod and murmur in collective awe and approval.

“Yeah,” Negan says, grinning around at them all. Rick is among the crowd. Their eyes meet and Negan feels a little warm around the collar. He tugs at the neck of his shirt to cool himself.

“Negan.”

Negan turns to Arat who’s holding up a large cup of something.

“Drink,” she says.

“I don’t need to fucking d—“ but then he’s gone blind and a thousand needles are slowly sinking into his tongue like it’s a pin cushion.

He can’t breath right. He can’t stand. One moment he’s snatching a full mug of water from Arat and the next he’s clutching the empty cup and wondering desperately where all the water had gone because he’s damn sure none of it touched his mouth. He throws it to the ground, huffing and retching.

Arat quickly returns and guides his hands to the new mug, as his eyes are too clouded with tears to see it.

A little while later, he’s feeling a little better. He wipes his eyes and forehead with his scarf and looks around to the crowd of people all still staring at him.

“Yeah, Yeah, they’re hot as shit,” he says. “Fucking get back to work.”

As the crowd disperses, Rick is left. He’s laughing.

Rick Grimes is laughing.

“Oh, this is fucking funny to you, huh?”

Rick suppress his laughter—poorly. “No,” he says, moving his hands away from his heaving stomach and trying to stand straight. “Not funny.” But his brow strains as he fights to keep his face stern. All at once he fails, and Negan is so glad he does.

The smile and sound of his laughter is warm and welcoming and completely unlike anything Negan has witnessed from the man. When they catch each other’s eyes, Negan feels that warmth begin to spread into him.

As Rick’s laughter fades, an easy silence settles between them.

“I miss you,” Negan says, low so only Rick hears.

Meeting Negan’s eyes, Rick’s smile falters and he looks away. Negan’s spine tingles as he watches the color climb.

“I know,” Rick says, just as low. “We just gotta do it this way a while.”

“Whatever you say, sweetie.” Negan sways closer. “Shit—I mean _Rick.”_

Rick’s lip twitches but he disregards the slip, instead glancing around to survey the yard.

Smiling to himself, Negan studies the man. “Just saying, I miss having you in my bed is all. Little furnace you are.”

Rick laughs softly, plays it off. A curl tumbles. Negan doesn’t hesitate.

“How you been sleeping these past few nights, huh?” He asks as he brushes the lock aside, taking his time to secure it behind a scarlet ear. “Doesn’t get too hot in that East Wing, does it?”

“No,” Rick says shaking his head lightly at the ground before looking up at Negan. “It’s alright.”

“Alright,” Negan purrs. “Just so you know, if it gets too hot down there, you can always come up to my room any time you want. You always got a place. You know that don’t you, Rick?”

Rick nods. “Yeah, Daddy. I know.”

“Holy, shit!” Negan chuckles and bounces on his heels. “Did you just call me _Daddy?”_

Rick looks surprised himself, and the red of his face climbs higher.

“It’s alright, Rick, it’s fine. Just been a while. I missed the sound of it is all. All this ‘Negan’ shit. Making me feel like a damn stranger.” He grins and bumps Rick’s shoulder with his own.

Rick’s own lips curl upward a little. They’re close now, much closer. Rick isn’t backing away so Negan stays.

“If you want, you can just call me Daddy when we’re alone, Rick. I won’t mind it. If it makes you feel good. No one else has to hear it. I know you gotta keep up appearances with the guys an’all.”

Rick looks a little uneasy, doesn’t respond.

“If you want, I can just call you things when we’re alone too. Would you like that? Keep it just between us?”

Rick looks down again, like he’s trying to make his hair tumble forward, but Negan had secured It too well behind his ear.

“Could call you ‘Baby,’ ‘Sweetheart.’ _‘Gorgeous.’_ ” Negan adds, rocking forward. “When it’s just you and me, I mean. Would you like that, Rick?” He waits. “Baby, would you like that?”

Finally, Negan catches a flash of blue before Rick gives a curt nod to his boots. Negan lingers, enjoying the view. After a moment he hears someone calling his name.

A glance over his shoulder reveals Simon waving at him. Negan turns his attention back to the lightly blushing man in front of him. “Looks like I gotta go, Rick.” He says low. “I’ll see you around. _Sweetie.”_

Rick looks for a moment like he wants to say something. Negan doesn’t wait, but turns and walks away.

He doesn’t look back and doesn’t have to. He knows the other man is staring after him.

Yeah, things are going well, Negan would say.

 

 

Negan kills a guy and they get a new settlement.

When he gets back to Sanctuary, Rick is there waiting. He looks antsy. It’s only the second time Negan has left him there alone since Rick had asserted that they spend less time together. Negan would’ve left him behind anyway for this. He wouldn’t want the scene to stir any memories.

“You miss me?” Negan asks low, leaning in. It’s a tone he reserves now for when no-one else is around to overhear. It’s their agreement.

Rick doesn’t respond verbally but the relief is clear in his bright eyes and in the way he’d bolted out of the building when the trucks rolled through the gate signifying Negan’s return. He’d stopped in front of Negan so abruptly that the Savior could swear he’d meant to embrace him but stopped himself.

“You were…gone a while.” Rick doesn’t seem to know where to put his hands and finally sets them on his hips. Negan can see that he’s been doing his nervous sweating. And he see’s something else too: _worry._

Rick Grimes was worried about him.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Negan says. He means it. “I won’t stay away that long ever again.”

Rick breaths deep and they hold each other’s gaze a while before Rick looks away.

 

PART III

 

A celebration is in order for the new settlement. There’s drinks, laughter, karaoke.

Rick is tipsy.

When Simon gets up to go find another drink, Rick and Negan are left alone at the table. Around them, the room is loud and raucous and someone is singing a ballad so off-key that Negan can’t identify it over the booing.

“I mean it!” Negan shouts over the noise, “We’re doing the next one. I’m putting our names on the list.” It’s an empty threat but he likes the way Rick lunges forward to tug him back down by the arm every time he says it.

“Don’t! Don’t!” Rick says again with a big smile and drooping eyes. “I can’t!” There’s a light slur in the Georgian drawl.

“No. You’ll be good. What do you like?” Negan asks.

Rick looks dazed for a moment, the lazy smile faltering slightly. “I don’t…I don’t know. Guess you’d know better.”

“Right,” Negan says and laughs sharply. “Right, I mean—Yeah. I would.”

Negan is relieved when Simon returns, and immediately encourages his Second to tell a story he’s already heard two hundred times. He feels better when Rick’s attention is off of him.

Oh, but Rick’s a great listener when he drinks. Negan finds he’s more interested in the Alexandrian’s reactions than in anything Simon is saying. Throughout the story, Negan’s focus occasionally drifts to the man across from him. He watches the bright blue eyes go wide in anticipation, the brows that crinkle up in concern, and the pink lips that pucker in question.

By the end of the story, Rick has had another drink and Negan can tell by his glazed stare and swaying posture that Alexandria had gone dry a long time ago

“I’ll walk you to your room,” Negan says when it’s clear Rick won’t be able to navigate to the exit, much less to the East Wing. Simon is far from done and doesn’t follow, but sends a kind of signal to Negan, which Negan refuses to acknowledge.

“I’ll be back,” he says instead. And he means it. He’s only going along to keep Rick upright.

“You know, I never stayed in one of these before,” Negan says when they reach Rick’s room in the East Wing. “They look like dorm rooms. Shitty ones.” He feels a sudden bitterness.

“I like’em,” Rick says, plopping down on an armchair in the corner to wrestle off his boots. “They’re cozy.”

“Right. Well.” Negan kicks idly at the doorframe. “I’ll head back down. By now Simon’s probably depressed and telling stories about his dog.” Simon could fluctuate between a hugely entertaining to terribly morose drunk within the span of a few drinks. “Don’t wanna miss that.”

“Wait, uh,” Rick stands. “You can… you can stay a while if you…if you want. I don’t really mind. Don’t really get much company down here.”

“Sure, Rick,” Negan says. “Sure, I’ll…I’ll just hang out a little while.”

 

  
Somehow, he’s on the bed with him. He knows he doesn’t want to be there, knows he shouldn’t be there, but he’s there all the same.

“If you want, you can…touch me,” Rick says. “Like you…like you used to.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I don’t mind.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Just…Nothing, baby, it’s fine. It’s fine. Where you want me to touch you?”

“You know, where you used to.”

“Yeah, okay, sweetie. I remember. Lay back.”

“Want me to take my shirt off?”

“No, that’s alright. Just leave it.”

“Okay.”

“How’s that?” Negan asks after a while.

“It’s good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I like it.”

“That’s good, sweetie.”

“You alright, Daddy?”

“Yeah, fine.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, baby. Just close your eyes. Don’t worry about me.”

“Sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, sweetie. Everything’s okay.” Negan feels like if he takes a deep breath, he’ll implode. “Why do you ask, baby?”

“It’s just… you’re not touching me the way you did.”

“What?”

“Like you…used to. You said you always used to touch me after supply runs. You said I had a… a favorite place.”

“Uh…"

Rick takes his hand gently and guides it beneath his shirt to the trail between his bellybutton and waistband. “Here,” he says. “You said I always liked it when you touched me here.”

“Goddammit, Rick! What the hell?” Negan yanks his hand away.

“What?”

“What do you mean, _'what?'_ ” Negan scolds. “Jesus Christ, Rick.”

“You said you used to—“

“Yeah, I know what I said, Rick. Times have fucking changed, alright? It’s not fucking appropriate anymore. Weren’t you just saying how we’re too close like five fucking minutes ago? Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. Maybe I oughta go.” He starts climbing off the bed. “Knew it was a fucking mistake coming down here.”

“Daddy, I was worried!” Rick bolts upright. “I was…shook up. Nothin’ from before is comin’ back and all this is… still new to me.” He stares openly with eyes too blue for Negan to stomach right now. “I didn’t mean for you to stay away, I just…I’m still gettin’ used to all this is all. Please.” He reaches out. “I…I miss you.”

Negan stares at the hand on his arm. It isn’t gripping him but Negan still feels like he can’t move from beneath the weight of it.

“I—I over-reacted like you said. Wasn’t thinkin’ straight. And, well,” Rick nods to himself as if coming to a decision. “Well, if you say that all this is normal, then…” He searches between them a moment. “Well, I trust you. That’s all I want to say.” There’s hope in his eyes when he looks up again, and something else. Real, genuine trust.

Oh, Hell. 

 

  
“Let’s get that shirt off, baby.”

Rick nods and they remove his shirt.

“There. Isn’t that better? How 'bout we get those pants off too, huh? There. Nice and comfy. Holy shit, Rick. You got nice legs.”

“Oh,” Rick’s face colors as he lay now in only his boxers, the fabric bunched up slightly to reveal pale inner thighs.

The Alexandrian certainly never wore anything like shorts to the weekly pickups, and since he’d been at Sanctuary he always wore pants to bed. So, Negan has never seen Rick’s bare legs before now. 

“Uh…”

Negan’s eyes travel up the lanky limbs, taking in the mass of lean, sturdy muscle.

“Daddy…”

Negan’s hands follow his eyes.

“D-Daddy?”

Negan’s mouth follows his hands.

“ _Daddy!_ ”

“Shhh, baby. Shhh.” Negan says, voice muffled. “You got gorgeous legs, sweetie. Let Daddy appreciate what he made…”

“D-Daddy—” Rick gasps.

“It’s Daddy’s beard, isn’t it, sweetie? Is it too rough?”

“N-no, Daddy… _No!_ ”

Suddenly, he’s shoved back. Delirious, Negan looks up at Rick, whose chest is heaving and his damp curls are sticking to his forehead. Then Negan’s eyes dip down to the pronounced mound in Rick’s boxers just inches from his face. “Oh shit.” He glances back up to Rick’s face, which has taken on a scarlet color. “Oh shit, sweetie. I didn’t know. Fuck, I’m sorry, Rick. I didn’t know this was getting to you like that. Well, shit.”

Rick presses more firmly on his shoulders, scooting up the mattress to put more distance between them. With a tug, he straightens his boxers, covering much of the thick, luminescent thighs Negan had been sampling. “I think it’s enough tonight,” he says soberly.

“What?” Negan gapes up at the other man. “Baby, everything’s fine. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You and me been sleeping in the same bed for years. All of a sudden you’re so far away. It’s natural to get a little excited when we’re together again. It doesn’t bother Daddy one bit.”

Rick appears to consider this. “Alright,” he says at last. “I guess I’m not…used to that. Didn’t meant to…react that way.”

“It’s alright, baby. Daddy doesn’t care. Honestly, I’m happy to make you feel good. That’s my favorite thing. Making my boy feel good. You know that, don’t you? You know I’d do anything for you, Rick?”

Rick’s cheeks go a deeper shade and the concern in is brow softens.

“You know,” Negan says. “Daddy got a little excited too.”

Warily Rick's eyes drift back to him.

“I’m serious! Shit. This week has been hell for me. It’s just so nice to be close to you again, I guess my body’s a little happy to be here too.”

Rick looks away, the furrow in his brow returning.

“Hey, I’m not just saying that to make you feel better. I mean it. Look.” Negan pushes himself back on his knees to reveal the considerable bulge in his lap. “See, Rick. You’re not strange for reacting that way. Guess we both got a little excited.”

Rick gives Negan’s pants the briefest glance before averting his eyes again. Negan watches the bob of his prominent Adam’s apple.

“Look. Sweetie. If any of this is making you uncomfortable, you just say and I’ll go.”

“No, no!” Rick reaches out again.“Stay. It’s fine. Really. It’s just…still new is all.”

“Okay,” Negan says.

Rick settles back again, looking more at ease when he’s sure Negan won’t be leaving him.

Negan has to wonder if all this time apart has had an effect on the other man. He thinks back to earlier when Rick had bolted out to greet him when they'd returned from the new settlement. There was a desperate kind of longing in the man's eyes then. _L_ _oneliness._ That was it.

Negan can understand how the deserted East Wing might get a little lonely after a while. And aside from Negan, Rick doesn't know anyone in Sanctuary. Now that Negan thinks about it, it's not so strange at all that Rick might be a little starved for company.

“I won’t go if you don’t want to be alone, Rick. If you want I can stay here all night.”

Rick still looks a little unsure.

“Hey, I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. That’s the last thing I want. Look, you can take the bed if you want, and I can just sit right over there in that chair. We can just talk if you want, Rick. I don’t mind. Might take some of my clothes off though if that’s alright. Gets hot as shit in the East Wing. You probably don’t want to sleep in those sheets either, Rick. Baby, your boxers are riding up. Let me get that. There. Like I said we can just talk. That’s fine by me. You can lay here, by yourself. I can sit over there. By myself. And we can just stay like that all night. I don’t need to run my hands on you, Rick, if you don’t want that. I don’t need to run my fingers up your … thick thighs. We don’t need to do that, Rick. Fuck, you got nice legs. I already say that? Goddamn, I’m sorry. I know you don’t like me talking like that. Daddy’s just proud is all. Can you blame me? Just blown away by what a good-looking guy you turned out to be… good-looking legs, good-looking hips, good-looking arms, good-looking neck, good-looking… good-looking _lips…Fuck—”_

Then Negan is plunging down and Rick is rising to meet him and their lips are crushed together.

“Waitwait. Sweeite, sweetie—listen.” Negan pulls away. “Wait. Before we start…"

“What?” Rick breaths, eyes hooded and face flushed.

“We gotta…we gotta set some ground rules, okay?”

Rick nods, breathing as rough as Negan is.

“Okay, okay. You can’t say things. That’s the rule, you got it? Don’t talk about what’s happening, not how it feels, not about my…just not anything, Rick. You understand?”

“Yeah, but—“

“I know, sweetie. It’s just sometimes when you say things, it makes it hard for me. We’ll have to stop. And that’s a real problem ‘cause if Daddy doesn’t get his dick in you tonight, he may die, sweetie. You don’t want Daddy to die, do you?”

Rick shakes his head.

“That’s good, baby. I didn’t think so. You’re so fucking sweet. So, next time you have a thought, you just keep it to yourself, alright? You tell Daddy after.”

“Uh…”

“After, Rick.”

“It’s just…”

“Alright. Last thing.”

“Is it gonna hurt?” Rick asks.

“No, Baby. Daddy’s not gonna hurt you. Gonna go so easy, Rick. You trust me?”

Rick nods a little hesitantly.

“You look nervous, Rick.”

“No.”

“You sure? You look real nervous.”

“No, no. I want it. I do. Think I been wantin’ this for a while.”

Negan nods distractedly, beginning to remove his own clothes.

“Since I been over here,” Rick continues. “I been thinkin' a lot about you actually.”

“Aw, baby, that’s sweet. I been thinking about you too.” Negan tries to get his belt loose but he’s clumsy in his haste.

“Sometimes,” Rick says distantly. “At night.”

Negan’s movements slow as Rick’s words catch up to him.

“I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t. I just…”

“Rick.”

“I don’t know why. I just get _so…warm_ when you’re around. And then when you’re not around, I just keep thinkin’ about you. Then at night, I…I don’t know what happens. I just…”

“Rick.” Negan’s throat is impossibly dry. “The rule…”

Rick bites his lip. “I touch myself,” he breaths out at last.

Negan’s eyes roll back and he doesn’t try to stop the barrage of images: Rick, naked, sweating, tossing in his sheets; Rick restless, mind distracted, body overheated—Rick in agony and only able to find relief by thinking of Negan while he bites his lip and slides his hand down his—

“No _—no.”_ Negan shakes the visions clear. “What did I just say about talking, Rick? Not another word.”

“But I—”

“No.” Negan snaps. But with a glance at Rick, he sighs. “Alright, last thing.”

“Daddy,” Rick says “Have we done this before?”

_“Goddammit.”_

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. Just—gimme a minute.”

Negan takes a minute.

“No, Rick,” He says when he’s recovered. “It’s your first time. And before you say anything else, I’m really big too, so I need to get something to make it easier on you.”

Rick’s eyes flash. “No! Wait, please. Here—I can…“ he reaches for Negan’s hand.

“Rick, wait. don’t—“

And then Rick is sucking his fingers, one then two. Negan waits and doesn’t breathe.

Rick is careful and thorough. He concentrates and is a little hasty, wanting to prove that he can do better than any lube, worried Negan may leave him. Negan doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he wasn’t going anywhere and just needed to grab the small tube from his jacket that’s laying just within arms reach.

Negan can’t stop him anyway. The sight is arresting. It’s only two fingers but they look thick in Rick’s pretty mouth. He uses both hands to hold Negan’s wrist, the same hands that had lunged to wrap around Negan’s throat not three weeks ago at the last pickup. That righteous violence to which Negan had grown accustomed is replaced now by only the utmost care and sweet, drunken concentration. Negan’s having a hard time not imagining his own wrist as the base of his cock with Rick’s puffy lips wrapped around the tip, all focused and gentle as he is.

After a while, Rick slides Negan’s fingers out of his mouth, slow and careful of teeth. They’re shiny with saliva and Rick is watching him hopefully. “That work?” he asks, so sincere Negan could just die.

“Yeah, I think that’ll…that’ll do it, baby. Thank you.”

Rick nods and while Negan is distracted trying to think of anything but the lingering feeling of Rick’s warm tongue lapping at his fingers, the slighter man is maneuvering beneath him. When the Savior finally realizes what’s happening, it’s too late. He can only watch helplessly as Rick, now flipped onto his belly, reaches for the waistband of his own boxers and pulls—

Negan looks away. He has to.

While Rick is busy divesting himself of his final scrap of clothing, Negan tries to take stock of the situation. With his fingers still poised and slick with saliva, Negan hovers over the man who has proven to be a bigger handful than the Savior ever anticipated. The man who once took down one of Negan’s outposts, slaughtering everyone inside as they slept; the man who had tried to kill Negan more times than he can count; the man who has always been so careful not to leave his back open to the Savior leader; the very same man now waits on his stomach beneath him, ass bare, eager for Daddy Negan to stretch him open with his fingers and then split him on his big cock.

“Okay,” Rick says, when he’s kicked off his boxers. “I’m ready. You can do it now.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay, baby.” Negan ekes out.

“I don’t mind it’s big,” Rick says. “I can take it, I think.”

“Oh, that’s…” Negan swallows, throat impossibly dry. “that’s good, baby.”

“Daddy?”

“Yeah?” Negan grits out.

“I trust you.”

“Oh, _fffuuuuuuck.”_

 

  
A short time later, Negan is tumbling off the bed.

“Daddy?”

On the ground, Negan scrambles to get his jeans back on from the tangled knot around his ankles. “Stay back!” He barks, floundering with the belt. Finally he just yanks it loose and points it at the man on the bed. “This is fucked up, Rick! Fucked up, you hear me!”

“Daddy, what…” Rick rises from the bed, swaying noticeably on his drunken legs—and oh God he’s so drunk. How did Negan not see how fucking drunk he was? Rick looks ready to trip over his own feet. His eyes are cloudy and unfocused.

Negan crawls backward on one arm as best he can while the other is thrust out ahead of him, blocking his view of the very naked, very drunk man coming toward him. “Don’t come any fucking closer!”

Rick is holding up his hands defensively, looking down at Negan with concerned, half-dazed eyes. “Daddy, what’s wrong?”

“Dammit, I said stay back!”

“I don’t understand—“

 _“Goddammit,”_ Negan snarls. “Carl! Carl Carl Carl! You hear me? Jesus Christ.” At last Negan collapses in exhaustion.

“Who’s…” the soft voice trails off and Negan doesn’t have to see it to know the sequence of emotions passing over Rick’s face.

“Yeah that’s right. Soak it in. Can’t deal with this shit anymore. Simon!” He calls and the man answers promptly through the door. “Yep?”

“Get the truck.”

 

 

He doesn’t have time for a note. They seem to have been expecting him anyway. It probably raised a flat that the Saviors hadn’t come by for any pickups in the last two weeks since Rick’s disappearance.

They don’t have guns so they throw rocks and sticks

“Yeah, yeah,” Negan groans shielding his head with his arms. “You’re fucking welcome.”

 

 

EPILOGUE

 

Negan leans on the railing. He doesn’t need to look out in the yard to know whose sea-blue eyes are staring daggers at him through the chainlink fence out in the yard. Still Negan does. Maybe he deserves it a little.

“Easy, easy,” he mumbles as if the man can hear him. “I brought him back.”

Whether Daryl knows or not, he still glares back at him and Negan guesses there isn’t much he can do about that.

“How you holdin’ up?”

Negan turns to see Simon coming out to join him on the platform. He doesn’t respond but turns to look out over the yard again.

“You miss him.”

Negan turns away, tries to ignore the man in the jumpsuit who’s still leaning against the fence. Dude should really be watching his own ass. Like he’s not worried about getting bit. Negan almost hopes it’ll happen. Not really though.

“You wanna get some cake?” Simon offers.

“No,” Negan says, his legs dangle over the balcony.

“How ‘bout some ice-cream? We got some more toppings in.”

Negan kicks his legs idly. “No.”

“I heard they got sprinkles in.”

Negan considers this, examining his hands for a moment. “Yeah, alright.”

As Negan gets up, Simon pats him on the back. They go to get ice-cream.

 

 

Later that night, he has a bowl sent down to the prisoner’s wing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
